


illos probare iniuriam

by milkkicoffee



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, No Romance, Platonic Relationships, how does romance work help, mentioned basilio, mentioned isagani, mentioned kabesang andang, mentioned paulita gomez, platonic regarding penilaez ok, sadly they're not my forte, slight!paulita gomez/juanito pelaez, slight!penilaez, this is why it's hard to tag fics with no pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13949088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkkicoffee/pseuds/milkkicoffee
Summary: 'prove them wrong.'An AU where instead of going with the flow in the novel, Placido gets to be in Hong Kong.  In Hong Kong, he aims to forget everything that happened to him in the Philippines, focusing on succeeding in his studies there. (English)





	illos probare iniuriam

**Author's Note:**

> Guys...I love Placido too much it's kind of not cool anymore help me.  
> I wrote this because Placido deserves an ending/closure and I will be eternally angry at Rizal because he never picked up Placido again after like what, 3 chapters??? hmph
> 
> After reading the fic, please, please read the end notes to understand the ending better!

Placido recently received news: His classmate, Juanito Pelaez, just married Paulita Gomez. Or should he say, Paulita Pelaez.

He was utterly confused. Why would anyone marry an irresponsible scumbag like Pelaez?

He shook his head, put aside Juanito’s reply letter, opting to just focus on his studies.

Currently, he was in Hong Kong. He followed his goal of escaping the country of the Philippines.

He was sick of everything there; the controlling friars, his never-ending need to be patient, and the toxic school environment.

He hated them all.

No,

He loathed them all.

He pushed away these intrusive, insignificant thoughts and directed his attention to studying Cantonese, learning each symbol’s meanings, how to hold their calligraphy pen, how each unique strokes are made, and of course, practicing how to write their language.

-  
As he made his way to his classroom in the same, old campus, Placido heard multiple people talk about what had happened to his classmates.  
‘Did you hear? They got suspended. _All_ of them.’  
‘That uprising was truly a bad idea, I tell you!’  
‘The true victims were that Basilio and of course, Isagani Florentino. What a loss; their future I mean.’

Placido stopped in his tracks and looked back to the students gossiping about his _former_ classmates. His brows knitted in confusion, and slowly turned to his front again.  
‘Uprising…? It couldn’t be his plan,…could it?’ he thought. He suddenly remembered the time when Simoun had invited him to come with him, and when they reached their destination, there he was,  
talking to a pyrotechnic about bombs. Did his classmates and their gang really get involved with Simoun?  
**_Did he make the right decision of backing out of Simoun’s scheme?_** In a way, did he abandon his classmates? Should he have joined them? He did not know their cause, though.  
Placido snapped out of his confusion, and shook his head. These were matters to think about after class. He picked up his pace and ran towards his building, so as not to be late.

He didn’t want to get on any of the professors’ bad sides after all.

***

He couldn’t concentrate during class. He tapped his fingers on the Physics book placed on his table, while resting his chin on his vacant hand. Placido put on his thinking face, staring blankly at the ceiling. A drop of sweat appeared at his temples and, although it seemed very impossible, his frown got even deeper.

**_What happened to them?_ **

\--

After what seemed like an eternity, the class had ended. His classmates were putting away their things inside their bag, with dour, sullen looks on their faces. This made Placido even more confused.  
Before he could even lay a foot outside the classroom’s door, Placido was called to Padre Sibyla's office. _What did I do this time? Am I really going to get suspended now? What about my mother’s sacrifices?_ He gulped, feeling the hairs at the back of his neck stand, his anxiety increasing.  
Slowly, he made his way to Padre Sibyla’s office.

***

"You will be an exchange student at Hong Kong. A filibustero like you, we can't keep you around here. Who knows what you're planning?  We plan to send you to Hong Kong to busy yourself with the education there. Whatever revolution you're planning, you must halt that scheme now. Otherwise, you will end up like your classmates."

Placido just stared at Padre Sibyla, surprised. Was he...being given a chance to leave this stupid excuse of a country?

Now he felt guilty, because when he last saw him, he thought of dragging him out and throwing him into the ocean, along with Don Custodio.

"Sir...truly, are you truly saying that I am given a chance to study at Hong Kong?" Placido asked, drilling his gaze into Padre Sibyla.

"Or would you rather I suspend you? Would you want to join Pelaez and his fellow filibusteros?" Padre Sibyla replied threateningly, returning Placido's gaze as well.

Placido's eyes softened, tears almost falling from his eyes. Finally. An opportunity to leave for good. He would never have to see or return to his country if he didn't want to, right? He would finally be independent, free from his mother's wishes for him to continue studying in the Philippines whilst abiding by the friars' commands and regulations, and the old, usual advice of patience.

"Father...thank you. Thank you so much. I would be more than happy to go to Hong Kong and leave this blasted country." he smiled at Father Sibyla, reaching out for the priest's hands and shook them. He kept saying words of thanks and bowed endlessly, showing his sincere gratitude.

_‘If he really was a filibustero, he wouldn’t behave like this when technically **exiled** to another country, or is this an act?’_ , he thought. Padre Sibyla, confused as he was, simply pretended nothing was amiss (1) and didn't question the lad's eccentric behaviour.

"Since a ship for Hong Kong just left, you will have to wait for a few more days for the next one to arrive. In the meantime, prepare your belongings and bid farewell to the people you want." he told him nonchalantly, pulling away his hands and getting back to signing paperwork for the university.

As he was at the door, before leaving, he let out a final 'thank you', bowed once again and left.

Shutting the door, he leaned against it and fell to the floor. His cupped his face with both his hands and cried.

Not like the tears he cried when he tried to leave home.

Not like the tears he suppressed after being humiliated by Padre Millon and his classmates.

These were different, unlike the tears that have fallen from his eyes all his life.

\---  
Now, how would he say goodbye to his mother? Direct communication perhaps? However, his mother had just recently gone back home to the province. It would take too long to go back there. Or a letter? Finding parchment to write on was too tedious.

But it was certainly not the time to be lazy, he was going to be in another country after all. It was time to double the efforts he gave into studying and prove all those people who humiliated him wrong. For the rest of the time he is in the Philippines, Placido decided to stay at a plain inn with cheap rent. He planned to save money for his escapade to Hong Kong. He never thought of it as exile or banishment, really. Instead, he just planted in his mind that it was a blessing in disguise.

He retrieved white parchment from his suitcase that he used to bring to school everyday, as well as the quill and black ink that came along with it.

He sat down on a mahogany chair and set the paper and ink on the adjacent table. He picked up the quill using his left hand, dipped the tip into the black ink's container, and proceeded to write his letter for his mother.

In the letter, he stated that he was to bound for Hong Kong in a few days and will continue his studies there because he was exiled. He was officially dubbed as a filibustero, something his mother has always tried to avoid for him. He reassured that her efforts and sacrifices were not for nothing, as he was going to get proper and advanced education in a country like Hong Kong. In a way, her dream for him to at least get a baccalaureate was going to come true.

His father up there did not have to worry about him not becoming a lawyer.

After finishing his letter for his mother, he ought to write a short letter of thanks to Father Valerio; the director of his past school in Tanauan, Batangas. Being branded a filibustero was both a good and bad thing. It was good, for being branded one means you were neither stupid nor incapable. It was bad, because you will be perceived by everyone as an enemy of the country and can face execution anytime. He had _something_ to thank him for.

Placido was reluctant to send a letter to Juanito Pelaez. Why would he have the need to be informed about his exile; his departure? He did not know what Pelaez was up to right at this moment. After he and his classmates involved with the construction of the Castilian Academy got suspended, Placido no longer got news or even the slightest bit of information about them. He was extremely worried especially about Basilio and Isagani. They were the ones who were so passionate about making a change for the Philippines. It seems as though the change they have always longed for never happened.

Then again, he could send a letter to Pelaez and ask him what happened to his classmates…and maybe how he’s doing as well.   
Placido let out a tired sigh and rummaged through his suitcase to find more paper to write on. Despite everything that transpired, he still wanted to know what his…friends’ current states are.

He decided to write on a parchment that was slightly brown. He had held on to it for more than four years, and thought something precious like it should be used for important purposes.  
Placido deeply thought about how he should start his letter, how long it should be, what its contents should be, and how it should end.

There was a thought at the back of his mind, worrying that Pelaez might not take his letter seriously. Knowing him, he must still be always on cloud nine, relaxing and serenading women with Padre Camorra.

His grip on his quill tightened, face scrunched up in frustration. _'Damn it.'_  
He should really just get started on this damn letter.  
Placido took a deep breath, then exhaled a few seconds later.  
_‘Well Pelaez, Here; my first and final local letter to you.’_

\----

When Padre Sibyla told him the next ferry would take a few days, he didn’t think it would be just _**two**_ days.  
Luckily, Placido already mailed his letters to the post office earlier in the morning, writing in those said letters his new address.  
When he got to the post office, he actually had mail! Padre Sibyla wrote the address of the school he will be banished—er, school he will be studying at and the new place he will be staying at; A Dominican retreat house.  
Apparently, most students who stayed there were Catholic Chinamen (2), only a handful were Filipinos and Castilians.  
As he was going up to the ship, carrying all his heavy belongings in a suitcase, he diverted his attention to his current concern: Learning the mainland’s language.  
  
He did not know much about Chinese, other than it was unique for having symbols instead of letters in their alphabet, and that Hong Kong used “Cantonese”, whatever that was! He had no reason to doubt himself though. He was confident in his learning abilities, after all.  
Placido absentmindedly boarded the ship, lost in his thoughts reflecting on weighty matters.  
It wasn’t until someone placed their hand on his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance, though.

Apparently, he stood still for quite some time. Embarrassed, he apologized to the stranger, and hurriedly occupied a seat at the back, near the window and put his suitcase on the floor. He placed the other one on the unoccupied seat beside his.

Now, he was at peace; alone with his contemplations.  
Mushy it may be, he misses his mother already.  That was all he missed from the Philippines. He comforted himself, thinking that letters can make up for the distance and time he’ll be away from his mother. Surely, she must be proud of him.

Placido smiled, assuring himself with the abundance of positive things that will come out of him being able to study in Hong Kong.  
He grabbed his suitcase beside him, and hugged it.

  
_‘By pursuing Hong Kong, It’ll be like showing those who have wronged and laughed at me that I still have my dignity. **I’ll show them**. I’m the child of a valorous and cultivated province. I do not need to wash away insults with blood. After all, proving people wrong because of them thinking that I am undignified, right now, is the best way to counter all of their wrongful opinions of me.’_ (3)  


**Author's Note:**

> 1.) Pretended nothing was amiss = deadma HAHAHAHA 
> 
> 2.) Okay guys, I have facts to base this on. The Catholic Church in Hong Kong was established in 1841. This is probably why Rizal opted to put Hong Kong as the country Placido wanted to go to. Uh, that’s just my opinion though!
> 
> 3.) Two things: In the English translation, Placido mentioned being a child of a valorous and cultivated province, and that he must wash away insults with blood. This is what his clamouring pride told him at that time. That’s where I got the idea of that statement from, albeit without the blood part because what’s better than proving your enemies wrong with your own success?  
> Second thing, lawyers point out contradictions! Placy’s studying to be a lawyer! Y-you know where I’m getting at.
> 
> That's it, really!


End file.
